


Sundew

by Foul-Mouthed Harlot (Winddrag0n)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Brief Vomiting, Captive Will, Choking, Come Eating, Deep Throating, Dirty Talk, Dom Hannibal Lecter, Facials, Flirting, M/M, Morally Grey Will, Murder, Obsessive Hannibal Lecter, Prostate Massage, Rimming, Sort Of, Tentacle Rape, Tentacle Sex, all the way through (imagined), come inflation (imagined), cryptobotanist au, erotic asphyxiation, gagging, hannibal is really nasty in this just fyi, like really deep, not for suicidal reasons, pretending to be a sub will, self-injury, sliding scale of consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-12 16:24:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19949260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winddrag0n/pseuds/Foul-Mouthed%20Harlot
Summary: Hannibal Lecter is a famous cryptobotanist, well known for creating his own cultivars. Will Graham is an FBI agent sent undercover to investigate the disappearances of multiple police officers who were last seen on his property. Nothing goes as planned, for either of them.





	1. Drosera

**Author's Note:**

> This is a thinly veiled excuse for writing tentacle porn, and just general practice for that sort of thing. I want to get this out of the way in case people are concerned- when Will and Hannibal do get busy directly, it's 100% consensual. 
> 
> PLEASE NOTE: Tags are for the entire fic, not just this chapter. This gets weird. I've split it into two parts, so the first part is more... normal? While the second part... just read the tags. There was also nothing resembling a beta because like hell I'm gonna send this to any of the people I usually ask

The conservatory was large and ostentatious, as were the gardens Will had traveled through to get to the unnecessarily large door he was currently stood before. It was almost annoyingly large, more at home at a medieval castle than the smaller house attached to the massive glass building. Small was a relative term, as the house was far larger than anything he had ever lived in himself, and he spared himself a moment to curse the fabulously wealthy before using the huge brass hoop of a knocker to announce his presence. 

A tall man answered promptly, a pleasant smile on his face, but Will noted that it did not reach his eyes. “Ah, Mr Burrows, I assume?”

A pseudonym, obviously. He was supposed to be a reporter from the Sun, here to write an article on world-famous cryptobotanist Doctor Hannibal Lecter. Will replied with a smile of his own, and held out his hand for a handshake, which Lecter accepted. “Please, call me Trevor.”

The identity would hold up if looked into, Beverly had made sure of that, but a surge of anxiety shot through Will nonetheless. In reality, he was working with the FBI. A local cop had been sent to the property to investigate a disturbance, but had never returned. So, naturally, they sent another one. And another one. Five missing cops later, the FBI had forcefully gotten involved, much to the humiliation of the now ex-sheriff. 

Will was good at pretending to be something he wasn’t. This would be an easy assignment, quite honestly, but he knew it was highly dangerous and he should not underestimate the man he was investigating. All he had to find was enough to secure a warrant, and they’d be back with a full team to apprehend the man. 

“Follow me,” and Hannibal opened the door fully to usher Will inside. He took the agent’s coat and put it safely away in a closet before gesturing deeper into the house. “We shall conduct the interview in the sitting room, if you have no objections. I trust nothing in the gardens gave you any trouble?”

It had been a strange walk, full of plants that twisted and reached for him as he passed, but they were planted far enough from the path that they could not reach him. “It’s… interesting, I’ll give you that,” Will shot back. “Never seen anything quite like it.”

“I would not be doing my job very well if you had seen things like that before, no?” The smile accompanying the reply was almost playful, and Will’s stomach lurched. Be polite. Joke back. Stroke his ego, get him to let down his guard.

“I suppose not,” Will replied, laughing lightly. “It’s remarkable.”

The sitting room was cozy, and Hannibal led Will to a pair of armchairs facing each other by the cold fireplace, a small table between them. He took one and Will took the other. Will removed a small audio recorder from his shirt pocket and held it up questioningly, turning it on and setting it on the table when Hannibal gave his nod of approval. “Trevor Burrows of the Baltimore Sun, here interviewing cryptobotanist Doctor Hannibal Lecter.” He rattled off the time and date before looking back to the man across from him. “Do you want to say anything before we begin?”

“Would you like anything to drink? I have an excellent bottle of Dalmore I have been meaning to try, if you are a whiskey man.”

Will was, in fact, a whiskey man, but he also was not stupid enough to accept a drink from a murder suspect. “I don’t like to drink while I’m working,” he smiled, “but I appreciate the gracious offer.”

“Very well,” Hannibal nodded. “I shall also abstain. Feel free to proceed.”

The interview itself, or at least what little of it they got through, was surprisingly pleasant. Hannibal was very thorough with his answers, and the conversation flowed easily between them, Will even finding himself laughing genuinely at times. The man was very charming, and Will sensed it would be dangerous to interact with him too much, to let himself get swept away. Thankfully, Hannibal’s phone soon rang, interrupting them. “I must apologize, this is terribly rude of me.” It sounded genuine, but Will noted that Hannibal didn’t actually look all that repentant as he pulled his phone out of his slacks. “Hmm,” he frowned. “I am afraid I must take this, as it may be urgent. If you do not mind waiting, I will return shortly.”

Will leaned forwards and clicked off his recorder. “It’s no trouble,” he assured, leaning back in the chair. “Go ahead.”

“Feel free to explore this room,” Hannibal offered, before making his exit out of the main door, back into the hallway.

Will counted to ten before he stood and slipped out a side door. Bedelia had assured him she could keep him busy for around thirty minutes, giving Will plenty of time to explore and try to find evidence of the vanished officers. He would get an alert when the conversation was in danger of ending, giving him sufficient notice to return to his original position.

The conservatory was the obvious first point of interest, and so Will ignored it. Even if something had happened there, anyone who managed to blow through five officers in the span of a week knew enough to clean a place so visible thoroughly. He went deeper into the house instead, peeking into rooms, trying to find something out of place. At the end of a hallway there was a heavy metal door, sat slightly ajar, and when Will pulled on it a blast of cold air escaped the crack. A meat locker, likely, a good place to store bodies.

Will frowned. It was very obviously a trap, and he hoped the missing people hadn’t been stupid enough to fall for it.

He continued on, descending a set of stairs into what seemed to be a basement, and was met with a locked door. _This_ was more like it. He had the lock picked and unbolted in moments and slipped inside, closing it behind him.

The room was lit, but there were various pits in the ground, ten feet across and spaced evenly around the room. Some sort of irrigation system snaked throughout the room and a large round light sat directly above each pit, probably a source of artificial sunlight. Within each pit sat a tangled mass of vines and colorful flowers, looking somewhat similar to carnations but with a large opening in the middle. Certainly nothing Will had ever seen before, and good candidates for places to hide evidence. He moved through the room methodically, first checking to see if anything was obviously out of place and planning on moving through each pit individually after. 

He was at the far side of the room when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs and froze. He had never gotten an alert on his phone and it certainly had not been thirty minutes but none of that mattered because he needed to find a place to hide, soon. He glanced around rapidly, before looking at the pit closest to him. They were deep and had ladders leading down into them. If Hannibal was doing a quick check through the house, he would be missed. He slipped down the ladder as fast as he could, clinging to the bottom so as not to damage the plant inside. It was a bit of a weird concern to have, but it wasn’t like the plant had done anything wrong, and then the door was opening and he held as still as he possibly could.

It was a long minute, and when it ended with Hannibal head poking over the rim of the pit and looking right at Will, his heart fell into his stomach. “Ah,” Hannibal stated, face unsettlingly blank. “There you are.”

“I, uh.” Will’s brain raced, trying to come up with a satisfactory lie. He was just so curious, he couldn’t help it, he wanted to find an incredible, never-before-seen plant and write a huge hit piece and get famous and-

“I must confess,” Hannibal interrupted, “I was not expecting to find you here, Detective Graham.” He sighed. “I quite enjoyed our conversation and found myself hoping you would refrain from doing anything stupid, but it seems you have done so regardless.”

Well, this was it. Hannibal clearly knew who he was, who he actually was, and there was no way he was getting out of this alive. A strange sense of calm washed over him as he accepted his fate. “That cold room was a pretty shitty trap, I gotta say. Did any of the cops fall for it?”

Hannibal frowned slightly at the curse. “Most of them,” he admitted. “You do not seem particularly distressed.”

“Well,” was all Will said. A thought came to him and he patted his jean pockets, finding nothing where something should have been. “You took my phone?”

“I did,” Hannibal confirmed. “I suppose I need to decide what to do with you now.”

“You’re going to get a much more official visit when I go missing, you know,” Will pointed out. “They’ll find me no matter how many plants you feed me to.”

“Oh, that reminds me.” Hannibal peered down into the hole, glancing around at the plant inside. “What color are the flowers of that one? It is a bit difficult to tell from up here when the buds are closed.”

“What color- is this thing going to eat me?” Will located the bud closest to him and leaned closer. It was tightly closed but the ends of some petals poked through the end. “White,” he relayed.

“White, hmm? Dormant, then. You are probably safe down there.”

“Great,” Will muttered. “Just gonna shoot me in the head and turn me into fertilizer instead?”

At that, Hannibal almost looked offended. “Nothing so crass, I assure you. I will return to collect you when I have decided.”

With that, he retreated, and Will couldn’t believe his luck when he heard the door close and lock across the room. He couldn’t exit that way, that’s for sure, but at the very least he could find a weapon and try to get the jump on the other man when he returned. Emboldened, he started up the ladder, but was soon halted when two strong vines wrapped around his legs, stopping his progress.

Will sighed. Of course it couldn’t have been that simple. There had to be a way out. He wasn’t going to die here, tied up by a fucking plant while Lecter slit his throat. There had to be something he could do. As he thought, he chewed at his bottom lip anxiously, eventually biting down hard enough to draw blood. He let out a hiss of pain, snapping out of his reverie as he sucked the lip into his mouth to clear away the blood.

The plant shifted behind him and all the flowers opened, startling Will. A single vine, tipped with a blossom at the end, rose before him, pushing gently at his chin. It almost seemed like it was asking for something, and he could only think of one thing it could currently want.

Well, he’d done stupider things, although he knew Jack would argue that point. He sucked a decent amount of blood into his mouth, enough to easily spit out, faced the flower and did exactly that, landing it neatly in the waiting opening.

The change was immediate. All of the flowers quivered, darkening into a deep stormy blue, and additional vines carefully plucked Will from the ladder he was clinging to. He made a very undignified noise and panicked briefly, but they simply carried him to the center of the pit and curled around him tightly yet comfortably.

Hannibal found him like this maybe ten minutes later, eyebrows raised. “Curious,” he murmured, studying the flowers. “I have never seen blue before.”

“Come look closer,” Will tried, hoping the plant would tear the intruder to pieces. Whatever had happened after he had given it the blood, it seemed to almost be protecting him now. 

“That would not be wise, I believe,” Hannibal answered dryly. “These plants assume the temperament of whoever supplied the DNA, and I do not think you would hesitate to kill me if you could.”

“I’m sorry, they do what?” Will asked, dumbfounded. That wasn’t possible. Then again, the vast majority of the plants Hannibal owned were equally impossible, so he didn’t push that.

“You gave it blood?” Hannibal mused, noticing Will’s bleeding lip. “That would be more than enough. It would likely attack me to protect you if I got too close.”

So he was safe? If Hannibal couldn’t get to him, it bought him time to try and make his grand escape before he starved to death. Still, Hannibal didn’t look particularly upset, if anything he was smiling- and then cold realization swept through Will. “You- you wanted me to activate it,” he hissed. “You _expected_ me to.”

A pleased smile emerged on Hannibal’s face. “Very good,” he confirmed, and Will snarled up at him. “I have been curious would would happen if you gave this plant two seperate sets of DNA, and you have very kindly provided me the opportunity to find out.”

“No, don’t-” but Hannibal had drawn a knife, cut open his palm, and the flowers greedily devoured the blood he dripped into the pit.

The flowers darkened further, taking on a deep purple hue, and the vines loosened and contracted repeatedly around him. “Hannibal-”

“Purple,” the older man murmured, ignoring the pleas of the man trapped inside the pit. “Mine were red, so I suppose purple would be the natural result.”

Will felt some of the vines slip beneath his shirt, and he shivered. Hannibal’s head was now poking over the side, closer than before, was he laying on his stomach and looking down? The vines suddenly pulled outwards, ripping his shirt open and sending buttons flying everywhere, and Will could not swallow the yelp.

“That shirt was atrocious,” Hannibal commented, brows furrowing. “You should not be upset that it has been disposed of.”

“I’m more focused on the fact that this thing seems to be undressing me,” Will bit back, heart racing as the vines pulled the shirt all the way off of his body and tossed it to the side. They traveled lower, tugging at his belt, and _now_ Will began to truly panic. “Hannibal, what the fuck is thing going to d-” A vine curled around his face, covering his mouth and gagging him.

“I suppose we will find out shortly,” Hannibal smiled, and Will had to look away from his burning gaze.

The only other thing he had to look at was the plant itself, which was worse. It writhed around him as a thick vine wrapped around his torso, lifting him up and allowing the other vines to remove his belt and pull the pants off of him entirely. They paused briefly as they swept back up his legs, poking curiously at the boxer-briefs concealing the only part of him that had not yet been exposed. Maybe it just didn’t like eating clothes. Being ripped apart seemed like the more appealing prospect at the moment. Unfortunately, it simply pulled those off as well, setting Will back down into a sitting position, legs bent under him.

Will couldn’t say he was entirely surprised when he felt something press against him, beneath the vines. That did not keep him from startling. It felt slick, at least, and slender. He supposed he should be thankful, but he found it hard to do so as it slipped inside with little resistance.

His eyes must have betrayed him, because Hannibal chose this moment to speak up. “Has it done something, Will? I cannot see underneath the vines.”

Will fixed Hannibal with his harshest glare, and he could tell by the look of amusement on the other man’s face that he knew _exactly_ what the plant had done. It slid deeper, and Will looked away quickly, not wanting Hannibal to see his expression. It felt… strange, more than anything else. There wasn’t any pain, though he didn’t exactly have high hopes that it would remain that way. He felt it curl inside of him, folding itself in half downwards as it fed more of its length inside of him, thickening. Will fixed his gaze on the ladder across from him, hoping to travel to the stream until everything had ended, but on it’s pass downwards the tip of the vine brushed against a part of him that made his breath hitch. The vine froze and Will cursed inwardly, aware he had alerted it to… something he wasn’t entirely sure of.

The vine inside him folded itself into almost a hook shape and pressed forward and down. Will’s cock jumped as his entire body shuddered, but at least the fucking plant seemed satisfied with his reaction. It continued to press down, massaging roughly, and he felt his cock thicken against his will.

It wasn’t fair, honestly. This should have been an easy job. The plant did not let up, and Will closed his eyes so he couldn’t see himself get hard from being fucked by a plant. More vines were looping around his body, massaging gently in time with the one inside, all the sensations combining into an overstimulating mess. It wouldn’t last forever, it couldn’t, but the ending was not something Will looked forward to either.

It was humiliating, being put on display for the murderer watching above him. Another, thicker vine pushed its way inside and Will’s eyes flew open as his head tipped back unconsciously. The second vine slipped in further, stretching him open, his eyes locked with Hannibal’s smoldering gaze, and the sensations peaked as he came suddenly and without warning.

Most of the vines released him, sucking up the semen that covered them, and the ones inside withdrew, leaving him feeling momentarily empty. The one around his mouth finally pulled away and Will tried to ignore how much saliva went with it. He allowed himself to collapse onto the plants below, holding himself up with his hands, looking anywhere but up.

“That was not what I had expected to occur,” Hannibal commented, sounding somewhat strained. “I think I would like to leave you down there and observe it for some time.” Will was silent, burning with shame, refusing to give Hannibal the satisfaction of seeing his weakness. “The plant may provide for you,” Hannibal continued, and Will heard him standing up. “If it does not, do let me know, and I will do so.”

That was the final thing he said before he left the room entirely, leaving Will at the bottom of the pit, vines curling around him in a cruel facsimile of an embrace. 

Upsettingly, the plant did provide for Will, though the thought of being fed a murderer’s food was also not an appetizing option. It had fruit that it seemed to store deep within it’s vines and would produce it whenever Will’s stomach rumbled. Along with the fruit, it seemed to retain a decent amount of the water it collected from the irrigation system, and it would even bathe him every morning, if two days was enough to establish a pattern.

The vines seemed to stay dormant most of the time, though they would spring into action to corrall Will back into the center if he strayed too far. Escape was obviously not an option, so he spent much of his time in his stream, plotting his revenge, if he ever was able to carry it out.

Every time Hannibal checked on him, the vines would penetrate him. Sometimes Hannibal stayed, commented on the proceedings-

_“Your ears seem to be quite sensitive,” Hannibal mused, peering down into the hole._

_“I don’t see what that has to do with your goddamn plants,” Will hissed back, gritting his teeth as the vines pushed deeper mercilessly._

-but sometimes he simply left, and Will would try to spin these situations to his advantage. The plant showed an alarming intelligence, remembering what he reacted positively to and continuing to do those things, and quickly abandoning whatever he obviously disliked. It could not, however, tell the difference between a genuine reaction and a fake one.

He had trained dogs before. How much different could a sentient plant be?

On the second afternoon, the door to the basement area opened, and the plant sprang into motion, wrapping around Will’s legs and dragging him deeper underneath the vines. He panicked, startled out of his thoughts, but maybe this was it? It would finally kill him and he wouldn’t have to live through this anymore. Of course, it did not, halting when he was fully buried underneath the mass of the vines. The pressure was minor, almost reassuring, like a warm blanket. It had arranged the vines in such a way that Will could not see past them but there was still air flowing down to him, dashing his hopes that the plant was stupid enough to accidentally suffocate him. Down here, he could still hear what happened in the room above, though it was muffled.

It was a bit difficult to tell, being surrounded by the plant, but based on how the vines were arranged Will believed he was laying on his back, facing up towards the light he could not see. His movement was restricted for the most part, but he could still shift around and stretch his limbs a bit.

What startled him more severely was when he heard two distinct sets of footsteps and a conversation between two voices, both of which he recognized.

“I apologize for taking up so much of your time, Doctor Lecter,” but Jack was using the tone of voice that came out when he did not truly mean what he said.

He was there. His boss was _right there,_ obviously searching for him, and freedom was so close. The plant’s sudden movements made a lot more sense now, and if he had been thinking more clearly he would have been impressed with it’s intelligence, but instead he was trying desperately to tear the vines away and alert Jack to his presence. 

“Do not worry,” Hannibal replied, equally insincere. “I understand that you must follow every lead at your disposal and only ask that you do not share any information about what you see down here. It will be some time before I am ready to publish my research.”

“You’re not publishing shit,” Will hissed, though it was muffled by the plant. He kicked as hard as he could and seemed to connect with something substantial because soon his left leg was pulled back, bent down at the knee, held fast deeper within the vines. A free vine smacked him lightly on the forehead and he felt oddly admonished. 

“They are… certainly something.” Will could practically see Jack leaning over a pit, Hannibal creeping closer before finally kicking the other man inside. Unfortunately Hannibal was not stupid, and Will was forced to hear them walk around the room while the doctor recited an extremely vague and fake-sounding monologue on what the basement plants were all about. His very own plant did not seem interested in making any further moves at the moment and was pulsating gently around him, pressing down on tense muscles, trying to get him to relax.

It was not entirely a surprise when the footsteps ended just at the rim of the pit Will currently resided within. “I am quite proud of this one,” Hannibal commented without an ounce of irony in his voice. “I have not managed to replicate such a beautiful color since.”

“These pits seem pretty deep,” Jack badgered, completely ignoring Hannibal’s obvious bragging. “What would happen if something fell in? Are the plants carnivorous?” 

“They are not,” Hannibal lied, “but they seem to be fiercely territorial. If anything other than water enters the pit it is summarily ejected.”

“Hm.” Jack did not seem convinced, and Will heard a rustling as he pulled something out of his pockets. “May I?”

“Only if you are not concerned about getting the pen back in one piece.”

Above him, faintly, something connected with the vines on the surface. One of the vines on top surged forwards, likely grabbing the pen, and shot upwards as it threw it full force away from everything beneath it. Apparently it did not throw it hard enough, as Hannibal seemed to catch the pen, and handed it back to the other man. “Here you are.”

Jack sighed, so loud that even Will heard it. “I think we’re done here. If you remember anything you think could be helpful, please contact me directly.” The plant continued to massage Will, and he felt himself relaxing, as much as he did not want to admit it.

“Of course. I do hope you find him safe and well. He seemed terribly bright when I spoke to him; it would be such a shame for such a promising young journalist to be lost to the world.”

Will sucked in a breath. It was a cheap shot, but effective, and he winced in sympathy.

“Yeah,” was all Jack answered with, voice tight. “I hope we find him too.”

Now was when the plant pushed inside, meeting no resistance, and Will yelped. _I shouldn’t be surprised that he’s a sadist._ More followed, thicker than ever before, multiple vines sliding in with an almost disturbing ease. Will gritted his teeth and turned his head to the side, the only movement he could make to distance himself from his boss and captor above him.

“Allow me to show you out,” Hannibal said above, the smallest glint of joy evident in his voice. The vines pulled out and pushed in, relentless, moving in a way they never really had before. While they had brought him to orgasm many times, he had never felt like they were truly _fucking_ him until now. _I don’t like this,_ he assured himself, back arching. 

“Of course,” Jack replied. The massaging hadn’t stopped. Will felt boneless but electrified. _I don’t like this,_ he thought, grinding up into the vines above him. “The team should be done with the rest of the place by now. We’ll be out of your hair soon.” He was hard, and he found himself tilting his hips up, encouraging the vines as they fucked him. _I don’t like this._ “Thank you for all of your help, Lecter.”

“Agent Crawford.” The angle made it better, the thick bundle of vines pressing hard against his prostate every time they pushed back in. They held his arms down, trapping them against his side, squeezing down on his body harder than could be considered gentle. He tried to pull his arms away and felt no give. His heart raced and soft pants escaped his mouth. Another vine slid inside and the stretch was overwhelming, bordering on painful. _I don’t like this._

It felt like it went on forever like this, an overbearing stimulation, keeping him just on the edge of orgasm, driving him slowly mad.

Pre-ejaculate leaked out of his cock, easing the slide against the vines above him. It was so much, but not enough. “Please,” he whined, voice quiet but high. All at once, the vines pushed down, locking him entirely in place and threatening to crush him. Inside him, they pushed up, but did not stop moving. _I like this._

He came.

The first sensation he was aware of afterwards was an almost blinding light, and when he opened his eyes he saw the vines had exposed him to the surface once more. Next was the bizarre sensation of the vines sliding out of him, and third came the sound of breath hitching above him.

Will rolled his head upwards and locked eyes with Hannibal. “I- I could have lived happily without experiencing being fucked to the sound of my boss's voice,” he bit out.

He hadn’t even heard them leave.

“When did it start?” Hannibal asked, eyes shining.

“After that thinly-veiled dig about Miriam Lass,” Will grumbled. He sat up slowly, curling in on himself somewhat once his leg was released but still glaring up at Hannibal. He probably should have been sore but he was everything but, trembling slightly with aftershocks of pleasure. “Are you not worried about bugs? It seems unwise to go visit your captive so soon after the FBI came knocking.”

“Our man Jack would not do something so illegal,” Hannibal sniffed. “I have been cleared of wrongdoing, after all.”

“Jack is more concerned about catching who he’s after,” Will protested. “He has tools for when he wants to toe that line.”

“I do believe that tool is sitting below me as we speak,” Hannibal countered, and Will bared his teeth in a snarl.

“He knows you’re involved,” he spat, rage building. “He’ll get me out of here.”

“No,” Hannibal smiled, and it sent a shiver down Will’s spine, “he will not.”

For the first time in his life, Will felt like prey. 

After that, things were strangely calm. Hannibal would check in on Will frequently, ask him cursory questions about his health and the behavior of the plant, and then they would simply talk. Will tried to resist these attempts at conversations initially but Hannibal was almost disturbingly patient and Will could not retreat to his stream with his danger senses going into overdrive. It took him spitting out his views on Kant’s ideas about good will and Hannibal picking up the conversation like there hadn’t been several hours of silence between statements to make him realize that this was a battle that probably wasn’t worth fighting. They would speak at length, on everything from philosophy to medical science, and all throughout it the vines would never make a move. At times they would massage him, relaxing him into more agreeable moods, and eventually Will connected the dots that it was because Hannibal himself was calmer. He had been anxious about the inevitable visit from the FBI, and Will’s suspicious about such were confirmed when he said as much to Hannibal and was immediately held down and fucked harshly for nearly an hour.

This led to another realization, which thankfully did not create the same reaction.

“You knew who I was,” Will accused, peering up at Hannibal. He sat cross-legged at the edge of the pit, back against a ladder, which the vines were wrapped around as a sort of cushion. They let him roam the entire length of the pit now, though they would twitch anxiously whenever he was near either of the ladders, so he made a point of being so as often as possible.

“Of course,” Hannibal confirmed. “I do believe I referred to you as ‘detective’ when I first found you, did I not?”

“No, not that.” Will waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. “I mean from the very start. Why did you even let me into your house? Why accept the interview in the first place?”

Hannibal cocked his head to the side, considering. “I was eager to meet you, I suppose.” 

Will’s mouth hung open, but he recovered and snapped it shut momentarily. Everything he did for Jack was off-the-books. On paper, he was simply a teacher at the academy, and if he took long absences or missed many of his classes, Jack ensured that no one would start asking questions. “People don’t know I exist. That’s sort of the whole point.”

“It is true that I did not know Will Graham would be the one who appeared on my doorstep, but I knew it would be Jack’s little ghost nonetheless.” He peered down at Will, who simply returned his gaze, waiting for the continuation. “Big cases suddenly found themselves solved, ones that had sat cold for years. Critical evidence appeared out of nowhere and lead to the discovery of bodies or onslaughts of proof. You have put many cruel people behind bars, Will.”

At that, Will scowled. “Are you accusing me of planting evidence?”

“They were unmistakably guilty. I am simply saying that it had become obvious that Jack had found someone who was both terribly brilliant and more concerned with justice than the trappings of the law.”

No witty reply was tossed up in return. Will couldn’t exactly deny what Hannibal had proposed, and it seemed a bit silly to lie at this point. “Okay, well if you knew what was coming but not who, did you look me up while you pretended to take that phone call?”

“I had a very nice conversation with Bedelia,” Hannibal protested. “In fact, I have not visited her in some time, and simply have to rectify that.”

“Great,” Will groaned. “Well, we’ve never met before, and I find it hard to believe you’d know about a part-time lecturer, so what was it?”

“I have visited Quantico before, on multiple occasions. While being guided down the halls I overheard a curious lecture and asked if I could observe briefly. You were speaking on the Greenhouse Killer, if memory serves.”

Will grimaced. He hated that case, hated that man, hated how it made him feel. It had been the first time he had worked with Jack, though it was in an official capacity as a special profiler. They caught the guy but he spent a week shut in his house afterward, convincing himself he was human and not an intelligent plant. After that he flat out refused to help Jack with fieldwork. It was certainly a case they would have brought a cryptobotany expert on.

He hated the case so much that he only lectured on it once, right after he had been captured. Four years ago.

“There’s no way you’d remember,” Will muttered, looking away, not entirely believing himself. 

“You are quite memorable,” Hannibal responded evenly. 

“I’m not,” Will snapped. “That’s why I’m so good at my job.”

Above, the corners of Hannibal’s mouth turned down into a moue. “On the contrary,” and did he seem disappointed? “You are very memorable, I would argue striking. What you are good at is ensuring that you do nothing worth remembering, and it does you no favors to pretend the two are the same.”

If anything, it was a compliment, but since Will prided himself of slipping through life unnoticed, it felt more like an insult and his hackles raised. “Yeah, well once you bled your personality into this fucking psychic plant the first thing it did was fuck me, so maybe you’re just not the most reliable expert on this topic?”

The look of pure indignant rage that flashed in Hannibal’s eyes before the icy wall flew back up was almost worth the bruises that followed.

When Will woke next, it was to screaming.

Not his own; he hadn’t had nightmares since being abducted, and that was something he very carefully did not think about. A woman, from the sound of it, and one in great pain, likely coming from another pit. Horrific crunching and squelching sounds soon joined, increasing in volume and continuing after the screams died down into a choking gurgle and then halted completely.

They still played in the background as Hannibal appeared at the rim of the pit, fixing Will with a contemplative gaze. “Disposing of a body?” Will asked, stretching and popping his shoulder joints. 

“Trying to replicate previous results,” Hannibal murmured. There was a spot of blood on his cheek, and Will was almost impressed the plant had managed to fling some up that high.

“Doesn’t sound like it went well,” Will observed, listening as the plant devoured what was left of the body.

“It changed color for her,” Hannibal began, thinking out loud, “but when I added mine it darkened straight to red and tore her apart.”

“Maybe you need someone with a stronger will?”

Hannibal hummed thoughtfully and took his leave.

It looped like this, for almost two weeks. Hannibal seemed surprisingly receptive to suggestions, almost always taking what Will suggested into consideration.

When a more forceful personality failed- “Maybe let it soak up some more of their blood first, get real saturated in them before adding a tiny drop of you?”

When the previous had failed- “I guess your weird plant ESP can only get it up for guys?” (This had entirely been said to rile Hannibal up, but all he earned was a disapproving look and chastisement for being vulgar, much to Will’s disappointment.)

“Pick someone smarter.”

“Pick someone older.”

“What if my blood is the magic ingredient? Try adding mine instead of yours.” (This had led to the plant hastily lifting the trapped man out of the pit and he promptly attacked Hannibal, who had been forced to dispose of both. Will found it to be incredibly hilarious, even if he was punished very harshly for it.)

“I am no longer taking your advice into consideration,” Hannibal replied, ignoring Will’s suggestion that he should try _both_ of their blood next and see if the victim got, quite literally, fucked to pieces. He heard a soft grunt followed by a substantial _thwump_ as a presumably unconscious body was thrown down into a nearby pit. “You have made it clear that you do not have my best interests at heart.”

“That wounds me,” Will droned, sarcasm dripping from his words. “You know that you can always trust me, Hannibal.”

The man in question peeked down into Will’s pit, a hint of a smile on his face. “Perhaps if I attempt this with someone as petulant as you I will see better results, but I have no desire to experiment on a child. I will return tomorrow to continue this particular endeavor.”

He left, and Will definitely did not have a matching smile as he walked away.

Will was in his stream when he was roused hours later by a faint voice, one he did not recognize.

“H-hello?” it said, gaining strength, and Will cocked his head to the side to listen. “Is there anybody there?” 

It was masculine and accented, likely British. “Unfortunately,” Will answered back, and he heard the sharp intake of breath from whoever was trapped here with him.

“Christ,” the man muttered. “Can you help me?”

“Are you sitting on top of a bunch of vines?”

Rustling as the man examined his surroundings. “It seems so.”

“Then you’re just as screwed as I am, I’m sorry to say,” Will grumbled. “Are you injured?”

“My hand is cut,” the man confirmed. “Can’t I just climb out of here?”

Will was just about to reply with a biting comment along the lines of _wow, you know what, I never thought of that! You’ve saved us both!_ when his thoughts were interrupted by a shriek and string of curses, so he said nothing.

The other man was silent, presumably recovering from the shock of being manhandled by a plant, and it was several minutes before he spoke again. “Where are we? Do you know?”

“Hannibal Lecter’s basement,” Will replied. “I broke in, personally,” he added helpfully.

“Doctor Lecter…?” More curses. “I should have known that offer was too good to be true.”

Offer? “Did he… seduce you?”

“What the-” Startled laughter. “God, no, I’m a colleague. He wanted my opinion on some new research he had been working on, supposedly.”

“Of course,” Will muttered, quiet enough that only he could hear. “Why the fuck would he have seduced someone here? Why did I ask that?”

“It probably would have worked just as well,” the man said wistfully, because apparently Will had not been as quiet as he had assumed. “Instead, I’ll die in this pit, having never fucked the esteemed Hannibal Lecter.”

It was Will’s turn to laugh now. “You’re taking this surprisingly well.”

“I know a hopeless situation when I see one. There’s not much point in panicking, is there?” A beat of silence, and when the voice returned, it was barely audible. “I really am going to die, aren’t I.”

Will wanted to say no. He wanted to reassure the other man, tell him that maybe he’d be the lucky one it’d work on and he’d survive, trapped within this pit for eternity as some sort of weird sex slave. It would not be a reassuring sentiment. “Probably,” was all he said, falling back on simple honesty.

A shuddering exhale. “Okay. Talk to me. How long have you been here?”

Distraction, Will was more than capable of. “I’ve lost track. Maybe a month?”

“What?” Obvious shock. “You’ve been kept captive for a month?”

“The plants had an unusual reaction to me.” It was mostly the truth. “He’s trying to figure out why.” Don’t dwell on their situation, it would only lead to distress for the other man. “What’s your name?”

“Anthony Dimmond,” came the shaky reply. 

“Alright, Anthony, it’s nice to meet you, though it could have been in better circumstances. My name is Will Graham.”

“Hold on,” Anthony cut in, voice stabilizing. “The teacher at the FBI who’s been missing? You’ve been all over the news. There’s a massive manhunt going on looking for you.”

Jack was taking this pretty hard, then. Will said nothing.

“You…” Anthony seemed to be considering something. “If I remember, you had brown hair, curly, blue eyes? Bit of a beard?”

Will rubbed his chin; it was more than a bit, at this point. “I… do, yeah.”

“Okay!” Suddenly, Anthony’s voice was strong, full of conviction. “Right. Here’s what we’re going to do, then. If I’m not making it out of this pit, we just have to make sure you do in my place.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Will was ashamed to admit he had given up on hope of escape, and wasn’t sure what Anthony could possibly do to alter the situation. “Do you think I haven’t tried to get out of here?”

“I think there’s a method you haven’t considered,” Anthony countered, and now Will was listening.

They talked all night, through the next morning, and right up until the door to the basement door opened and they abruptly stopped. Anthony had been careful to avoid sharing personal information but Will’s empathy had picked up on much nonetheless, and wondered if they could have been friends in another lifetime. 

“Don’t listen,” was the last thing Anthony said, and then there was only screaming.

When Hannibal walked back over to check on Will, he found him mostly buried beneath the vines, hands pressing down on his ears, trying and failing to drown out the sounds of Anthony being torn asunder.

“You did not seem particularly upset by any of the other experiments,” Hannibal commented, the vines pulling Will’s hands away from his ears. “Why was this one different?”

“Fuck you,” Will spat back, watching the weird sort of bubble he had been living in disentigrate before his eyes. Hannibal was not a friend he could joke with, or someone he could safely taunt. He was a monster, and every moment he remained he was in greater danger. He would not forget that again.

“Ah,” Hannibal commented. “I will gag the next one, if hearing it causes you so much distress.”

“Why?” Will shouted, eyes watering. “All the other ones you just tossed down there, let what happened, happen. Why would you leave him down there, awake?”

“You spent some time with your plant before I added my blood. I simply wanted to see if that had been an important factor in the result.”

_You can manipulate him,_ Anthony had said. He had insisted, despite protests. _Something about you is different, and it’s getting to him. You can take advantage of it, guide him into doing what you want._ When Will had pressed, he had refused to elaborate, only saying- _If I tell you outright, you won’t believe me. Ask him, and get the answer for yourself._

“Why Anthony?” Will looked up now, made eye contact with the creature above him, refused to look away. “He was a dangerous target. Why take the risk?”

Briefly, Hannibal looked displeased that Will knew the victim’s name, but his expression smoothed back into neutral like a flash. “He was the closest I could get to you.”

It all clicked together, snapped in like a jagged bone, and Will screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there was an end note here but I managed to delete it. everyone was very nice to me and I deeply appreciate it!


	2. glanduligera

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY FINE I won't be a chicken... Please read the tags!

Will allowed himself one day to have a breakdown.

It had been obvious, in hindsight, but he had been ignoring a lot of things for the past month and this in particular was no different. Will had intimate knowledge of the kinds of things that tend to happen to the… fixations serial killers developed, and by his estimate, Hannibal was veering towards a full-blown obsession. Hannibal was also hyper-intelligent, sadistic, and experienced, all of which pointed towards some very bad endings for Will.

Luckily, it seemed that Will hadn’t been the only one in denial, and Hannibal himself didn’t seem to be fully aware of his potential weakness. 

He started with a razor.  _ Hannibal cares deeply about appearances,  _ Anthony had told him.  _ Not necessarily in terms of being attractive, but in terms of being neat, put-together, and presentable. You’ll never see him with so much as a hair out of place.  _

The beard was starting to bother him, anyways, and it was the only thing he could really alter at the moment. His hair was getting longer but there was no chance Hannibal would give him a pair of scissors, so a razor it was.

“No,” Hannibal had said, predictably. “I am not handing you a potential weapon.”

“I just need a cheap trimmer,” Will pressed. “What the hell am I gonna do, saw away at my jugular until I punch through an hour later? There’s no chance the plant would let me do anything to hurt myself, you know that.”

Hannibal looked unimpressed with Will’s argument, so he decided this was a good a time as any to test Anthony’s theory.  _ He needs to be in control. If you act submissive, it might get him to let his guard down.  _ It seemed ridiculous, in all honesty- someone like Hannibal would never respond to simple begging. Regardless, Will slumped his shoulders, gave a defeated sigh, and glanced up at Hannibal through his lashes. He made sure to sound as resigned as possible when he once again asked “Please, Hannibal?”

A pause, and then, miraculously- “I’ll see what I can do.”

Will was stunned for so long he almost didn’t catch the cheap, battery-powered beard trimmer Hannibal tossed down to him some time later. It was not adjustable and the guard could not be removed, meaning Will’s beard would be the exact length Hannibal decided it should be, which was such an obvious display of control that Will almost laughed. Instead, he used it without complaint, using a pool of water the vines created for him as a makeshift mirror. When he passed it back up to Hannibal, who had watched the entire time, he made sure to smile and thank him.

What he attempted next backfired.  _ He said something about cooking once. I’ve heard that he’s quite an accomplished chef, so I’m sure he’d love it if you asked him to show off and make you something. _

“I’m getting pretty sick of these fruits,” Will had said casually one day. “Could you toss me down some trail mix or something?”

“I could do you one better,” Hannibal had replied, a pleased smile growing on his face. He returned an hour later, and held out something wrapped in a white cloth. The vines collected it and brought the package down to Will. It was warm, but when he opened it he had to force himself to continue to smile as he saw the warm bread rolls, heavy with the filling. Pistolettes, a snack he had greatly enjoyed eating growing up in Louisiana. 

It was not a coincidence. Will started to wonder if this was going to end with him being turned into a lamp.

He had hesitated long enough. Eat them, compliment the chef, sing his praises, but it went off the rails immediately when he bit in and almost moaned. Of  _ course _ he would be this good at cooking. The spices went wonderfully with the crawfish, enhancing the flavor of that and the soft, buttery bread. By far the best he had ever eaten in his entire life, and they were gone before he entirely realized he had eaten them so quickly.

“Those were incredi…” He looked up to thank Hannibal, but trailed off as he met the other man’s eyes. He looked pleased, that much was sure, but there was more behind his eyes, something hot and dangerous, something that should not be behind the eyes of someone who had just watched another man  _ eat.  _ “Oh, fuck,” he whispered, the cloth dropping from his hands. “What did I just eat? What the fuck was in those?”

“Crawfish,” Hannibal replied, eyes almost glowing. 

“What else?” Will bit out, as the vines stirred around him. Vomit, he needed to get rid of it. He had never had much of a gag reflex but he could probably manage it if he tried. Quickly, he brought a hand to his mouth, only to have to ripped away as a vine curled around his wrist. 

“Now now,” Hannibal chastised. “There was nothing untoward in those, I assure you. It would be uncouth to let them go to waste after you enjoyed them so much, would it not?”

The vines pulled Will back, slamming him against the ladder, while he struggled against their pull. Like  _ hell  _ he was going to let himself get poisoned after all this. “I-” He tried to speak, but as soon as he opened his mouth a vine pushed in, silencing him. It pushed deeper, fucking into his mouth, and he wanted to gag.

“I would advise you to be as still as possible,” Hannibal commented from above. “You may be injured if you move.”

The vine pushed, further, further, and when it hit the back of his throat and didn’t stop, Will fell entirely still. 

There was no way. This couldn’t be happening, there was no way. It pushed down, into his esophagus, and Will’s vision started to blur.

Slowly, carefully, he breathed through his nose. Just barely, he could get air in, but it was not much and wouldn’t last forever. He tilted his head up as the vines encouraged, giving it a straight passageway, and in his mind he saw the way his throat bulged as it continued down. 

It wasn’t surprising when something pushed in below as well, but when that only slid in further, panic began to set in. He couldn’t survive this, there was no way a person could survive something like this, is this how Hannibal had finally decided to dispose of him? He twitched as he was invaded further, trying to hold as still as possible, terrified of damaging something. Down the one in his throat went, further into his esophagus, inching down carefully, pressing towards his back to allow scant room for air to slip through into his lungs. The second vine was not so careful, surging upwards at an alarming pace, rushing through his intestines and distending his belly as it went. He felt as if he was being split open, ripped apart, like all the other unfortunate souls Hannibal had dragged into hell with him.

Deep inside, the two vines met, Will’s eyes rolled back into his head, and the world went white.

The next thing he was aware of was the vine inching slowly out of his throat. It had pulled out most of the way before he had come back to himself and he only had to endure a few moments of agony before it was out entirely, leaving him gasping for air, doubling over as he was released, only to straighten immediately when he realized he had only felt one vine removing itself. He pressed a hand down, to his stomach, some sick curiosity  _ needing  _ him to feel it, see how grotesque he looked with the other vine-

His stomach was flat, though a bit softer from the lack of exercise. Startled, he looked down, and found that there was no second vine, and he was hard.

Now, he bent over and vomited, barely managing to expel it all away from him.

“I suppose that was inevitable,” Hannibal sighed, his eyes betraying his true reaction. 

“Why,” Will rasped, turning away from the vines as they tried to clean him, rinse out his mouth. His throat was raw and burning, every word feeling like broken glass being shoved into his mouth. His erection was not flagging.

“That reaction of yours took me by surprise,” Hannibal continued. “Where did you go, Will? What did you see?”

“You fucking yourself,” Will hissed, raw and angry.

He was thrown back against the ladder, head banging into it painfully. That one would hurt tomorrow. He stretched his arms up, trying futilely to grasp and climb the rungs, escape the vines and the reality of what lay beneath him. They curled around him tightly, tying him into place, even locking his wrists above his head.

“If you will not tell me, I will have to find out myself, dear Will.” Hannibal sounded somewhat disappointed, of all things.

Will arched his back, getting as far away from the plant as possible. He couldn’t flip Hannibal off, so he settled for a vicious snarl.

“Very well,” Hannibal sighed. A vine wrapped around his throat, tightening, cutting off his air supply once more. “Asphyxiation-related arousal is surprisingly common and nothing you would need to be ashamed of.”

Will’s mouth gaped like a fish. He tried to gulp down air, but nothing got past the crushing barrier the vine had created. His fingers twitched uselessly above him.

“Perhaps restriction instead of total blockage of the air flow?” The vine loosened and Will got in several huge gulps of air before it tightened once more, this time allowing shallow breaths but nothing more. He was getting light-headed, and his traitorous cock twitched against his stomach. “Excellent. But there was more, was there not, Will?”

_ Stop saying my name, _ he wanted to scream, but instead he focused on getting as much air as he possibly could with each breath. “You touched your stomach briefly. Did you believe something had been left behind?” This earned Hannibal a glare. “Or…” He felt something sliding up his legs, between his thighs, and press against his entrance teasingly. A small sound escaped him, and he wanted so badly to punch the smug smile off of Hannibal’s face. “I see,” he murmured, and it pushed inside.

“You felt more,” Hannibal began as the vine fucked deeper. “Did the one in your stomach keep going, spearing through your body until it came out the other side?” Little gasps were forcing their way out of Will’s mouth now, precum dripping from the head of his cock. This shouldn’t feel as good as it did. “No, judging from your reaction, there must have been another, connecting from the bottom. How did it feel, Will? You must have been terribly full, stretched to your limit.”

“Shut-” Will choked out, but it was cut off by the vine around his neck tightening in warning. 

“A pity that something like that would not be feasible in reality. Tell me, Will, do you find yourself wishing the vines could mimic ejaculate as well? It seems like you would enjoy the sensation of being used and filled.”

It was all merging together, the dizziness, the steady pressure inside of him, the filthy words coming from that refined mouth. Reality was blurring once again, the vine pulsing and releasing a thick fluid, flowing endlessly into him. He arched his back once more, feeling the way the vines were almost painfully tight around him, and he whimpered.

“Can you feel it? Does it feel real to you, even though you know it is not?” Numbly, Will nodded, and Hannibal’s eyes  _ sparkled _ . “You are exquisite, sweet boy.” Hannibal whispered sweet words of praise into the pit, encouraging Will to let himself fall into the sensations, allow himself to enjoy it, real or not.

Really, what choice did he have? He surrendered himself to the fantasy, and when he came it was harder than he had in his entire life.

Dimly, he felt himself slump down against the ladder, his head lolling about until he finally regained the strength to tilt his head upwards. Above him, he saw the vine rising to meet Hannibal, tipping a flower forward, feeding him something that Hannibal drank without hesitation.  _ Holy shit.  _ Will jerked his head back down, closed his eyes, pretended that he had passed out.  _ Holy shit.  _ He remained that way until he heard Hannibal stand and depart, only opening his eyes after counting to one hundred. 

While he was learning how to manipulate Hannibal, the reverse was just as true, and if he did not act soon he would lose the chance to act at all.

Acting submissive hadn’t lasted very long. Deep down, Will had known it wouldn’t, as he couldn’t contain his true abrasive nature for very long if he was upset, and Hannibal was learning just how to push his buttons. 

Hannibal was also letting his true nature slip through, pretending less and less to be a somewhat normal human. He liked Will submissive, and was now forcing him to be so.

“Open your mouth, please,” Hannibal ordered, a beard trimmer dangling from his hand. He continued to allow Will to use one, which was ultimately all that mattered, but he no longer did so for free.

Will knelt down below, hands folded neatly on his lap. Before him, a vine rose up, one he recognized as the type that provided him water. Inwardly, he sighed, but he tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and opened his mouth nonetheless. He could not stop himself from flinching when a viscous fluid painted his face, sticky and bitter when it hit his tongue. When it ceased, he opened his eyes, looking up pleadingly.

“Good boy,” Hannibal praised, holding out the trimmer for the vines to collect. “Only clean what you must in order to shave.”

Will obeyed. Once he finished, Hannibal instructed him to refrain from cleaning his face and took his leave.

Alone again, finally, Will scowled and turned back to his makeshift mirror. It certainly looked like semen, that was for sure, but from the taste and texture it was an artificial substance of some kind rather than the actual thing. He had no idea how he had gotten it into the vines and he honestly didn’t care enough to dwell on it at this point. There was something more important he needed to do. Palm up, he held out a hand, and a flowered vine emerged from the depths to meet him.

“Hmm.” The purple was fading, but only just.

He had noticed it for the first time shortly after Anthony. Bored, he was studying the flowers, trying not to slip into the stream and take in as much information about his surroundings as possible instead. The color seemed off to him, wrong somehow, and he combed his memories to compare, and when examined side by side the purple had unmistakably changed. The blue was becoming stronger.

Hannibal either had not yet noticed or simply did not consider it important, but Will put great effort into ensuring he spent as little time looking at the flowers as possible every time he checked in, not wanting to take any chances he did not need to. It was impossible to tell what information he actually held over the serial killer and what Hannibal was simply allowing him to believe he had tucked away, only to throw it back in the empath’s face at the perfect time. 

In the end, it did not matter, and all Will needed to ensure was that he made his move before Hannibal did.

At first he was unsure if the changed color actually altered the influence over the vines, but he noticed the responded to them more and more, began keeping secrets from Hannibal as he visited. If he asked for something they responded quickly even if did not realize he had asked for it; most satisfyingly, they would curl protectively around him every time Hannibal entered, and he would have to coax them away so the other man did not notice anything was amiss.

It took some work to figure out the safest way to proceed from here. They worked by absorbing DNA somehow, and he discovered blood was by far the most potent after he bit his cheek and spit the blood into a plant and nearly had a heart attack when the color changed enough to be immediately noticeable. He continued to shave, although hair didn’t seem to do much, but he exercised in the pit whenever possible and let the plants bathe him, collect and absorb the sweat. 

Most notably, he taught the plants to fuck him, and when that did not produce enough, simply milk him. He wanted to hate it, and he did not.  


Time passed, and Will waited for the right moment to make his final move. When they were close, a significant amount of blood should turn them to his side entirely, and allow him to escape. At last, he judged them to be as close as he was willing to risk, and set it in motion.

“A straight razor?” Hannibal repeated, brows furrowed. “Of course not.”

This would take some doing, Will had expected that, but he knew exactly what to do. “Come on, I can’t do anything bad with them around, you know that.” To demonstrate, he grasped the fingers of one hand with another, making to bend them back and snap them. The vines were on him before he could blink, separating the limbs and holding them far apart from each other. “I’d have to ask less. It’d be nice to not have to deal with it for longer, you know.” The vines dropped his hands and he ran one up his neck, over his chin, tilting his head to bear the column of his throat. “Haven’t been clean-shaven in about ten years. Don’t even remember what it feels like, honestly.”  _ No one important remembers,  _ went unsaid.  _ Only you would know this side of me. Don’t you want to see? _ “Please, Hannibal. I’d do anything.”

That did it. He saw Hannibal’s pupils dilate at the offer. “You cannot change your mind if I agree to this.”

Will nodded. “I’m not planning on it.”

“Very well. I will return shortly.”

Once he was certain Hannibal had left, he gestured to the vines, who curled up to meet him. “We need to put on a show, got it?” One wrapped around his hand and squeezed affirmative. “Whatever he wants. I won’t stop you. Anything to get the razor.” He had something in mind, but it always tended to fly out the window when Hannibal lost control of his urges, which was exactly what Will intended to incite. All he could do was hope he made it out of this with all his limbs intact.

Hannibal returned with the straight razor and what looked to be a brush and shaving cream. Presumably the razor was already ready to use. In his hand, he held a vial, filled with a crimson liquid. “Take this,” he instructed, handing the vial to the vines.

It was blood, and Will’s heart raced. Had he been found out? Had he waited to long, or been too obvious?

“Drink it,” Hannibal ordered, and Will had a moment of blind panic before he realized Hannibal was speaking to him and not the plant itself.

“Is this…?” Will wondered aloud, though he already knew. Let Hannibal explain it, give him the satisfaction of a shocked reaction, play to the sadist inside.

“I assure you, it is clean. You have nothing to worry about.” Will let disgust show on his face, let his eyes widen in surprise, pretended to be horrified. “You gave me your word, Will. Drink it.”

He uncapped it, hands shaky, not having to fake that particular reaction. Better to get it over with. Slowly, he brought it to his lips, and then knocked it back in one smooth motion. A coppery taste filled his mouth, and he let a tiny amount escape, catching it with his thumb, ensuring none was left behind for the plant to potentially consume. He raised his head, looked Hannibal directly in the eye, and licked the remaining blood off his thumb, swallowing it.

It took seconds for the vines to knock him flat, leaving him face-up on the ground. A ladder was near, and he stretched to grab it, knowing Hannibal liked seeing the taut lines of his torso when his arms were held above his head. Helpfully, the vines wrapped around him there, trapping him in place, not budging when he tested their strength. Vines at his waist pulled him down, stopping just before it became painful. He hissed at the stretch, wiggling around to find a more comfortable position, but the plant halted him when it wrapped around both of his thighs and wrenched upwards, nearly folding him in half. 

_ This is a new one, _ Will thought to himself, gasping and arching his back as he was penetrated. The vines made sure to keep his legs pulled apart just enough to ensure nothing was hidden. Smaller bundles danced up and down his chest, teasing, massaging, feeling almost like-

-fingers. It had worked, and almost disturbingly easily. This was not a position Will had found himself in before, but what the plant was mimicking was unmistakable. Will acted like it affected him, the similarities-

_ he wasn’t pretending _

-he gasped, tilted his hips up, encouraged the plant to continue. It fucked him, almost tenderly, never pushing in far enough to break the illusion. Small noises of pleasure escaped him, words he didn’t mean to say-

_ don’t stop, please, don’t stop _

-time bled together, sensations bled together, the words he meant to say spilled out, far before he meant them to-

“H-Hannibal,” Will gasped, the words echoing through the emptiness as he came.

Rustling, followed by rapid footsteps and a door slamming. Immediately, the plants released him, but he couldn’t spare even a moment to catch his breath. “Bring- bring them to me,” he whispered, and they collected what sat at the rim of the pit and brought it back down to him.

He reached for the razor first, but paused as he looked at the brush and cream the plant had also brought down. Surely he had a minute or two before Hannibal returned from jerking off into the toilet or whatever the fuck he did after his hasty departures. He’d done it before, he could be quick.

He trimmed the ends of his hair while he was at it. It was getting long anyways.

He took a deep breath, brought the razor to his arm, and slid it down the length of his forearm.

It hurt, he knew it would, and he was worried it wouldn’t bleed enough since he wasn’t crazy enough to slash the underside where the arteries were harder to avoid. He had been careful, not wanting to bleed out and die in a botched escape attempt, but the color was not changing fast enough and he heard the door opening once more. Head wounds tended to bleed a lot- he brought it up to his forehead, just under his hairline, and cut in there as well.

Hannibal was close. The flowers were periwinkle. He hoped to god it was enough.

“Get me the fuck out of here,” he hissed, “and don’t let him stop me.”

The look on Hannibal’s face when Will was all but launched out of the pit was almost comical, and Will took advantage of the confusion to grab his arm, knock him off balance, and toss him down into the pit where he had come from. The razor was safely in his hand.

“Will-” Hannibal began, but the man in question only remained long enough to confirm that the plants were ripping what was likely a very expensive suit to pieces before flipping the killer off and tearing out of the basement. He bolted the door behind him.

Arm, he needed to fix his arm. All he wanted to do was collapse against the door, breathe in his freedom, relax for a moment, but he  _ had  _ to take care of his arm. He walked quickly through the rooms of the large house, looking for a master bathroom and the medical kit he guessed would be inside. It was somehow larger than he had imagined when he found it, attached to a bedroom with a canopied bed covered in twisting ivy and flowers. The medical kit was not hard to find, and Will quickly cleaned and stitched up the slash on his arm. Out of immediate danger, he sat back, took in the room, eyeing the shower in particular.

It couldn’t hurt, right?

He let himself soak, scrubbing his hair as best as he could with only one hand. After, he bandaged his arm and the cut on his forehead. He’d leave soon, but first, he wanted to bask in his success. Hannibal had likely not been bested in his entire life, so surely he deserved to celebrate it for a while.

He rooted through Hannibal’s closet, throwing expensive clothes all over the place, eventually pulling on slacks and a dark blue button-up. Wearing the other man’s underwear should have felt disgusting, but it felt more like a victory. It all fit a bit too loose, the pants hanging low on his waist, but he didn’t feel like locating a belt and left it alone.

The deeper rooms in the building, clearly not meant for visitors, all seemed to be much darker than the rest, filled with odd skulls and imposing statues or suits of armor. Strange paintings hung on the walls, though one in particular caught his attention. “Leda and the Swan,” he murmured, though a version he had never seen before. Leda was on her back, head lolling to the side, one leg tucked up beneath her as the swan got closer-

Will groaned. The pose was familiar, and he wondered if this is what truly triggered it.

He should leave now. Go call Jack, get the FBI, arrest Hannibal.

But what did Hannibal look like, humiliated in the pit the same way he had been?

His footsteps took him back down the stairs, ending at a familiar locked door. He undid the bolt, opened it quietly, and slipped inside. 

This was idiotic, potentially suicidal. He found his pit easily.

There was blood everywhere, the flowers were a deep crimson, and Hannibal was nowhere to be found.

“Shit,” Will hissed, glancing up, seeing no one. “Shit!” He spun around, and right behind him was a very naked, very bloody, and  _ very _ angry Hannibal.

He bolted, or tried to. He got no more than a few paces away when he felt a strong arm catch around his torso and lift him into the air with no difficulty. “You’ve been very naughty,” a voice whispered into his ear, and a shiver went down Will’s spine before he felt something plunge into his neck, and then he felt nothing.

When he woke, his first thought was that the plant had gotten very soft. It resolved into sheets, a duvet, pillows behind him, all very plush from what he could feel. Will groaned, hauled himself upright, and opened his eyes.

Across from him, near the door, Hannibal sat in an armchair. He was disheveled but clean, heavily bandaged, wearing only a pair of sleeping pants. His face was blank and he was staring right at Will. “You are awake,” he commented.

Will rubbed a hand across his forehead, wincing when he grazed the bandaged area. New bandages, he noticed, and his arm had changed as well. “I’m alive,” Will clarified, not entirely sure what was happening at the moment. “Not tied up, either.”

“I had hoped we could talk before you attempted another miraculous escape.”

“Talk-” Will laughed harshly. “What the hell are we going to talk about?”

Hannibal cocked his head. “Your behavior.”

“Jesus,” Will muttered. “I hate to break it to you, but I’m not going to meekly do whatever you say. I thought it was pretty clear that ship had sailed.” He glanced down, around, looking for a potential weapon. The luxurious duvet he had been laying on top of didn’t seem particularly dangerous, so his options were looking grim. Maybe he could smother the serial killer with a pillow. Sighing, he pulled a leg up towards him, and rested his chin on his hands.

“Then what do you plan to do?”

“Plan sort of flew out the window.” Will shrugged. “Figure it’d work and I’d be out of here, or it wouldn’t and I’d be dead.”

Across the room, Hannibal leaned forward, listening. “Then why did you return?”

That, he did not want to think about, so the spines shot out. “Can you just kill me and get it over with?” Will spat. “We clearly agree that I’m not going back in that pit, or I’d be there already. Just cut me up or whatever the hell you do before you feed your... creations.”

It was gone almost instantly, but distaste flitted across Hannibal’s features before they schooled themselves back to nothing.

“Oh,” and now, Will was laughing. “You’re not going to kill me. You’re trying to figure out how to keep me here, alive, aren’t you.” Hannibal tensed at that, and he sat up straight again, hands atop his knees. He was well-built, save for a bit of softness around the middle, and  _ jesus _ he had a lot of chest hair. “Tell me, did it fuck you?”

Hannibal’s mouth dipped down, a smothered snarl, revealing sharp and crooked teeth. That was a yes, then. Will couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Well, everything else had gone sideways, and all Will saw in his future was empty space. What the hell could it possibly make worse? Maybe it was time to stop thinking quite so hard.

Will let his legs fall apart, tipped his head to the side slightly, placed his hands behind his back, pushing his chest forward. “How about we table that discussion and you come take what you’ve been pretending you didn't want instead?”

In his entire life, Will had never seen a human move so quickly. He was dragged down flat onto the bed, held down by strong hands, heat radiating down his body as he instinctively bucked up into the grip. Hannibal tore the blue shirt open, ripped it apart at the seams and cast the tatters aside, and then his mouth clamped down on Will’s pulse, sharp teeth digging in. A high noise escaped Will, he brought a hand up, fisted it in Hannibal’s sandy hair and jerked his head back, ignoring the irritated growl it drew out the other man. Their eyes met.

Hannibal looked inhuman. A pleasant shiver flew down Will’s body, and he pulled the other man closer, and their lips met.

It was more teeth than anything else, and could barely be called a kiss. Hannibal seemed intent on consuming all of Will, in whatever way possible. “That was terrible,” Will breathed once they parted, lips bitten and bleeding.

The other man leaned down, licked away the blood, moved lower and bit lightly at Will’s jaw. He paused. “I would argue-”

“You should shut the fuck up for once,” Will countered, bringing a leg up between Hannibal’s and grinding hard.

“Language,” Hannibal chastised, almost playfully. He rolled his hips down and bit into Will’s shoulder, hard enough to draw blood.

Will tugged at the loose pants Hannibal was still wearing, scowling. “Get rid of these. They’re in the way.”

Hannibal raised his head and frowned at being ordered to do something, but Will rose up to meet him and repeated his request directly into the larger man’s ear. It worked wonderfully, Hannibal pulling off the pants and tossing them carelessly to the side, the rest of Will’s clothes soon following suit. He buried his hands in the fur at the other man’s chest, tugging, and sighed with relief. “Much better,” he moaned, slotting them together and bucking upwards.

The other man slid his hand down, between them, and stroked Will once. “For someone who seems to enjoy telling me to be quiet so frequently, you are quite chatty yourself.” He punctuated his statement with a squeeze.

Will’s breath caught, and he buried his face into Hannibal’s neck. “Then shut me up,” he challenged.

Hannibal leaned down, lips directly on Will’s ear, and whispered “Gladly.”

Will expected a hand at his throat, maybe to be pulled forward, to his knees, Hannibal’s cock shoved into his face. Instead, he was flipped over, onto his stomach, and he felt Hannibal prowl down and part his legs, pull the globes of his ass apart. “What-” was all he got out before he felt something warm and wet press against his hole.

Well, that would work just as well, he supposed.

Hannibal spent a long time taking him to pieces, licking inside as far as he could go, and it felt  _ nothing  _ like the vines. It was hot, almost burning, overstimulating in just the right way.

“I-It’s-”  _ too much, _ he never finished, words nearly impossible to form. He could make noises, he was definitely making noises, but coherent thought escaped him. His entire world was reduced to that burning sensation and building pleasure.

“I’m going to come,” he managed to spit out, because he was, and Hannibal, the bastard, pulled away. He whined at the loss.

“Why should you have all the fun?” Hannibal taunted, rolling Will back over. His face was-

Something else pressed against him, thick, slicked, and leaking. Will tried to gather a response but words would not return. Instead, he mustered the energy to bring up his legs, wrap them around Hannibal’s waist, and urge him forwards.

They moved together, and Will’s head rolled back, eyelashes fluttering, mouth open, as Hannibal was buried deep inside. “Will,” Hannibal gasped, similarly affected.

He pulled out, thrust back it, and it felt like shockwaves running all through Will’s body. “Please,” Will begged aimlessly. “Please.” Hannibal obliged, fucking into him slowly, rolling his hips forward, hands braced on either side of Will’s head. Something felt off, though, it was gentle, all too… normal.

“Fuck me right, you fucking coward,” Will snarled, baring his teeth.

“I think you should be quiet, now,” Hannibal answered calmly, and now, finally, the hand fell to his throat. He held Will down easily, pressing down, choking off his air. “Ah, yes, you did like this, did you not?” As if he had forgotten. Now, he was faster, building up to a punishing pace. 

Will’s hands scratched at the one holding him in place, trying to dislodge  _ encourage _ it with little success. His breath wheezed out of him, and he began to shake as he could not obtain the oxygen he needed.

“I have heard that some experience unparalleled euphoria at the exact moment of death. Is that what you are seeking, Will?” He ground deep, his free arm reaching back to hold up Will’s leg when they started to fall away as his strength left him. “Or is it just the danger you get off on?”

Tears fell from his eyes unbidden, but Hannibal licked them away. “You need not worry about dying, Will,” he murmured, hand tightening. “I will not allow you.”

Will came, and the hand immediately loosened, still holding him in place. Hannibal thrust in once, twice, three more times, unsteady, and then came deep inside of the body beneath him.

It was hazy, for a while. He remembered Hannibal leaning in, burying his nose deep into Will’s hair and inhaling- 

_ he had used his shampoo _

-remembered being cleaned, remembered something about food being whispered into his ear, remembered strangely soft touches and quiet words.

He was alone in the bedroom when he fully returned to himself. His neck hurt, probably sporting an impressive handprint, and there was a glass of water on the table next to him.

“Christ,” he muttered, fisting his hands in his hair. What the hell was he doing? 

There was a window in this room, only the second floor. He could slip out and run, still.

The faint aroma of food wafted up from the first floor. It smelled delicious, as expected.

Will had absolutely no idea what he was going to do. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who knows what happens next! Maybe Hannibal moves away and Will goes with him, insisting SOMEONE has to keep an eye on him, and he buys a large home somewhere in the forests of Europe, adds a large basement with a pit, and Will spends a lot of time down there, speaking to some mystery object he's taken to calling Winston-
> 
> OR
> 
> Maybe Will runs, calls Jack, arrests Hannibal, he's thrown in jail and ignored until dead families start turning up with remnants of odd plants and they're forced to ask for the assistance of a now disgraced cryptobotanist-
> 
> OR
> 
> Maybe something else entirely?


End file.
